


Soft

by writerspell



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, New Year's Eve, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 11:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17303840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerspell/pseuds/writerspell
Summary: A talk between Roger and Simon two minutes to midnight on New Year's Eve. Resolutions and realizations are made.





	Soft

**Author's Note:**

> This is a high school au. The boys have been aged up to 16/17. Some mentions of underage drinking.

It's two minutes to midnight, and Roger feels like he's suffocating. Parties, even small gatherings like this one, make him uneasy after awhile and this one's been in full swing since 9 o'clock. Combined with the fact that it's at Ralph's house, a boy from an entirely different school he only sort of knows through Jack. Roger’s well aware If it weren't for Jack's connection, he never would have been invited in the first place. Even though half the choir was. Roger didn't realize Ralph made friends so quickly, but apparently that’s what happens when you’re a so-called Golden Boy and dating the choir prefect, no doubt. 

At least that means Roger knows more boys here, even if they're not too keen to talk to him. Everyone’s familiar enough with his reputation to keep out of his way; but that does make for some lonely company, especially on a night like tonight. The booze helps. Someone, he suspects Maurice, broke out the alcohol around 10:30. None of them are technically of age yet, but all the parents went off to their own adult parties leaving the boys to fend for themselves. And Ralph's “cool” like that. No one would believe it, but Roger only knocked back a single shot before calling it quits. He's never been much of a drinker; his father’s drunken rages were enough to discourage that habit pretty quickly. 

Instead Roger finds other vices. Like now, for example. First chance he got, Roger slipped out onto the balcony for a smoke. It’s not like anyone noticed, or particularly cared. Everyone’s too distracted. Last Roger saw Jack, he had Ralph pressed up against the wall under some mistletoe, even though suspiciously all the other Christmas decorations have already been taken down. Roger figures they’ll be occupied well-into the New Year. Even Maurice is happy entertaining the littleuns with his collection of confetti poppers. The only one who really seems to give a damn about this whole stupid holiday is Ralph's annoying friend Piggy. Roger probably knows him the least, which is perfectly fine with both boys. Piggy's been trying to hush everyone for the past fifteen minutes, constantly reminding them of the countdown.

Roger could care less. His family never celebrated holidays, so why should he? If anything, listening to Piggy's stupid, nasally voice is only making him hate the New Year more. 

It’s two minutes to midnight and Roger just wants some peace and quiet, and a good smoke. The balcony is nice and isolated from the others, and with the countdown rapidly approaching no one will be bothered to come looking for him. It’s cold outside and the temperature only seems to be dropping, but he doesn’t mind. Just another reason others won’t come out here. Reaching into his pocket, Roger pulls out his pack of cigarettes and deftly lights one. The flame from the match momentarily warms his fingers and he almost regrets not wearing gloves. He drops the spent match over the balcony.

Bringing the cigarette to his lips, Roger inhales, holding the smoke in his mouth. He lets the warmth settle before slowly exhaling it back into the crisp night air. As he goes to take another drag, Roger hears the turn of the door handle behind him. Someone steps out onto the balcony. Roger holds his breath, hoping whoever it is will leave as soon as they see it’s only him out here.

“I thought you might be out here.”

He knows that voice. He would know that voice anywhere, but it’s the last one he expected to hear. Roger turns to look, releasing his breath as he says the boy’s name in front of him.

“Simon.”

The boy in question gives a small smile in greeting. He seems shy, but then again Roger figures that’s probably just his natural state. 

Simon Cambourne, the flower child. Roger hadn’t realized he was at the party, but it makes sense. They’re both in the choir, and although Jack may not treat Simon well on the best of days, Ralph seems to appreciate nice, quiet boys. How he and Jack got together Roger will never understand.. 

“Don’t remember seeing you earlier. Did you just get here?”

“No. I was here helping Ralph and Piggy set up. I found a little corner to stay in when everyone else started arriving. No one could find me.”

It’s no wonder everyone thinks Simon’s batty, not that Roger would ever tell him that. He understands, in a weird way. He also doesn’t like parties. He basically did the same thing by escaping out onto the balcony. Which brings up another question.

“How’d you know I was here?

Simon’s face turns serene, almost meditative. It would probably freak the others out but Roger knows that’s just Simon. “I guessed. Everyone thinks you’re like Jack but you’re not. Not really. He’s loud and you’re more….”

"Quiet?”

“I was going to say soft.”

If it were anyone else, Roger would have beat their face in for that. But since it’s Simon…. He still feels like he should be insulted at the observation, he has a reputation to keep and all. Roger would never admit it, but the words make his feel a burst of warmth in the cold.  
The other boy’s never really had a filter on him, Roger knows this. It’s actually something he’s always admired in the other boy, because Roger doesn’t have a filter either. He’s only known Simon a year; Roger joined the choir last January on a whim; he was short a class credit and didn’t feel like picking up anything too difficult. Jack recommended choir (provided Roger give an impromptu audition behind the school bleacher beforehand). 

It was there he met Simon, who’d been in choir since childhood basically. Although they were in the same year, the two had never shared classes before and, until choir, belonged to vastly different social circles. To everyone’s surprise including their own, Roger and Simon quickly bonded in choir over a shared snark and quick wit, usually in response to something Jack has said. 

Maybe if he’d known Simon was here, he wouldn’t have felt so claustrophobic. At least there would have been someone else to sit with, talk to. They could have hid from the world together.

“Do you have a resolution?”

“Excuse me?” Roger had gotten so carried away by his thoughts, he missed the other boy’s question.

“A New Year’s resolution. Did you make one?”

Roger scoffs at the question. “Not really my thing.” He takes another smoke from the cigarette he’d forgotten about with the other’s appearance. Roger isn’t sure what possesses him to continue speaking; but on the exhale, he says, “Suppose I’m just happy I lived through the last one.”

He doesn’t need to see the look on Simon’s face to know he’s shared too much. Roger drops the cigarette, crushing it underneath his boot, trying and failing to appear nonchalant. He doesn’t light another one. Simon seems unfazed. Roger turns the question back on him.

“What about you? You have a resolution?”

Simon gives another, impossibly gentle smile. “No,” he finally says, “Not really, other than to be happy.”

Roger can honestly say he’s never met another person like Simon Cambourne before.

“Why’d you ask me then?”

Almost immediately, Simon breaks eye contact, choosing instead to look to the ground. “I asked a few of the others when I got here: Piggy and Ralph. I realized I hadn’t asked you yet.”

As Simon answers, his voice goes shy, almost like he’s embarrassed. Roger can’t resist.

Lowering his own voice to match, sounding almost seductive, Roger responds, “Oh, so I’m the one who drew you out of hiding.”

It’s amazing how quickly Simon shifts from shy to indignant. “No. I saw it was almost midnight and didn’t want to miss the countdown.” 

“Really? You mean the countdown that’s already started? That you’re missing to stand out here with me?”

It’s true. As they’ve been speaking, distantly from inside the house can be heard a chorus of drunken voices, led by what sounds like an exuberant Maurice, shouting at the top of their lungs: 10….9…..8….7….

All of sudden, Roger feels incredibly nervous, and only slightly inadequate. “Wouldn’t you rather be inside with them?”

There’s that smile again, one Roger can only describe as soft. He decides it must be only for him. Simon’s voice when he responds is equally soft. 

“No.”

As he speaks, Simon takes a step towards him. A part of Roger still refuses to believe it.

6….5….4….3

“You’ll miss it.”

Roger can’t breath. He’s too afraid to move, afraid to break this fragile moment between them. Simon steps further again. 

“Everything I want is right here.”

2….1….0

Those words are Roger’s undoing. As the clock strikes midnight, he closes the distance. Cupping Simon’s face in his hands, Roger brings their lips together in a tender kiss. Simon responds in his own sweet way, his own hands moving to cover Roger’s. By all accounts, it’s not best kiss ever, but that’s okay. It’s inexperienced, an exploration, a promise of more to come.

It’s gentle. It’s soft.


End file.
